Bassment Deep

by Curtis Bennett

  “Hey, I know what you mean,” Al remarked, studying his friend for a long moment.

  “Do you think I’m being selfish?”

  “Not at all,” Al replied.

  “I mean, I just want her to dress sexy every once in a while.”

  “I understand,” Al murmured. Suddenly his eyes registered a bright idea. “Hey, perhaps what you need to do is turn the tables on her.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, leaning towards his wise friend.

  “I mean, perhaps you should try turning her on. You know, buy a couple of those sexy black briefs women like to see men wear and take it from there.”

  “I see,” Ma’Kentu smiled. “If I am able to turn her on wearing sexy briefs, then she should be able to see how I might be turned on by her wearing sexy lingerie.”

  “Word up, my brother,” Al grinned.

  “Alright!” Ma’Kentu said.

  “You’re in there!” Al laughed.

  “I’m in there!” Ma’Kentu chuckled back.

  The two gave one another a high five on the hands.

  “Hey Al, this conversation never happened, okay?”

  “What conversation?” Al said, this time giving a low five, his fist closed, on top of Ma’Kentu’s closed fist, hammer-style.

  The two returned to their discussion about the Grammys and their upcoming studio session.

  This was supposed to be just another casual flight for Margo. Now that she was actually on her way to California to be with Ma’Kentu and the band, she was as excited as any woman in love could be. In addition, this was going to be her first Grammy Award ceremony. The thought of being in the company of America’s top music stars gave her a rush that only a good night’s sleep could temper. Unfortunately, she was so wired up that going to sleep was the last thing on her mind. Usher, Prince, Wynton Marsalis, Stevie Wonder, Anita Baker, D’Angelo, Britney Spears, Ne-Kay Parker, and Jennifer Lopez, they would all be there, she imagined. Leaning back into the chair, she looked out at the colossal cloud formation. A short distance away, towards the east, she could see the red sun setting. It would not be long before dusk set in.

  Nearly seven hours later, the plane landed on its belly in Los Angeles. After collecting her luggage from the crowded baggage claim area, she flagged down a burly porter, who promptly came to her assistance. Heading outside the busy terminal, into the cool night air, with the porter in tow, she approached the curve side about the same time a sleek looking stretch-limo pulled up in front of her. The limousine’s white color nearly matched the color of her coat, her cotton pants suit and hanging earrings.

  The limo stopped and a youthful looking middle-aged chauffeur, dressed in charcoal black, climbed out and walked around the rear of the long vehicle until he stood stoically to her left. “Ms. Margo Cassaneto, I believe,” he said dryly. Margo gave a warm smile and nodded briskly in the affirmative. Responding as though her nod was some pre-arranged cue, he dutifully opened the limousine door and assisted her inside where she was greeted by Ma’Kentu’s handsome smile and sudden warm embrace. With a racing heart, she found his lips, for which a long and passionate kiss was the result. It was an ecstatic moment for the two lovers as the excitement of the moment engulfed them. Placing her palm against his warm cheek she smiled and said, “Darling, I’m so happy to see you. I missed you so.”

  “I missed you, too, my love,” he murmured, gazing back into her sparkling eyes.

  “Oh, it’s so good to be in your arms again,” she cooed. “You know something, a gal could get kind’a use to this red carpet treatment.”

  “I was hoping you would,” he replied, as he reached behind himself to pick up a bouquet of flowers. Roses they were…a dozen or more. Pink roses with long green stems. With one of those Grammy award-winning smiles, he presented them to her.

  Laying her cheek against his, she murmured, “Darling, you really know how to treat a woman.”

  “Honey, this isn’t even the main course.”

  At that moment, the limousine pulled off into the night.

  Ma’Kentu leaned against the wall of the lobby as if the wind had just been knocked out of him. It was a spur-of-the-moment inclination…something he does after being on the road for extended periods of time. He would place a simple routine phone call to his recording company lawyer and good friend, Derrick Scott, to catch up on the happenings. And today was no different. The two usually talked about business matters. But tonight’s conversation was strictly a personal matter.

  With a nervous expression, he hung the phone up and pondered his next move. He was expecting Margo to walk through the lobby area any moment now to meet with him. They had decided earlier to have lunch at a splendid Italian restaurant just two blocks away from the hotel, the kind with the red-checkered tablecloth and scented candle at the center of the table along with soft Italian music from the homeland. Al had recommended the place to them. It was just the sort of romantic atmosphere Ma’Kentu had been looking forward to since arriving in the metropolis of Los Angeles. But now that Derrick had broken the news to him, that the DNA test had come back positive and he was, indeed, the father of Charlotte’s baby, Charlene, all he wanted to do was retreat into the wall decoration. How could he break this news to Margo? It would not be easy, he concluded. Why now? Why me? He quipped silently.

  Sure she knew it was always a possibility that he could be the paternal father, but surprise jolted through her, nevertheless. “I just don’t know what to say…” Margo nearly sobbed. “I knew it was always a possibility but I just knew, was almost 99% sure, that you would tell me you were not the father. Believe me; I’m feeling a lot of different things right now.”

  With a nervous hand, he threaded his fingers up through the thick, soft texture of her hair, then he caressed the length of her face tenderly, trying to reclaim the joy that sparkled in her eyes just moments earlier. His attempt was in vain, though. The hurt in her eyes was great.

  He stared at her for a long moment. Clearing his throat, he said, “I really wished this could have turned out differently, Margo.”

  Hugging herself tightly, she turned and gazed into the distance.

  Exhaling, he said, in a pleading tone, “Look, Margo, please understand that this does not change my feelings for you, in anyway. I am a father now…yes! But I am a man who’s very much in love with you. No phone call is going to change that. What happened between Charlotte and I happened well over a year ago. Again, it’s you I love and you my life and future are tied to. Please, try not to hold this against me.”

  Turning to face him, she said, laconically, “I just want to know if there is a future for us, Ma’Kentu?”

  As his eyes widened with surprise, then narrowed with sadness, he watched her walk away. This was definitely not the reunion he had envisioned. Not at all! After a minute, he lowered his head, passed through the lobby, and exited the hotel to take a long lonely walk.

  That afternoon, the band rehearsed, ate lunch, then rehearsed some more. Throughout it all, his mind and heart just wasn’t into it. He missed the woman he loved. And because she had become such an integral part of the band her absence was quite obvious to the others. This added greatly to his pain. For those members who inquired they were told that she had not been feeling well. Al, whom he confided in, was the only one who knew about the DNA test results and Margo’s reaction to it. A true friend, he assured his friend that she would get over it and be in his arms again. Ma’Kentu said that he hoped so.

  That evening he declined an offer to hang out with the guys, including Al. He just wasn’t in the mood. If he had to suffer, he wanted to suffer alone. Though booked into the same hotel, he had not seen Margo since their last encounter earlier that afternoon. With a heavy heart he tossed and turned in bed, but could not fall asleep. He tried watching television but eventually turned that off. After an hour of restlessness, he decided to get up.

  Longing for her, he dressed and headed for her room. He just wanted to see her, wanted to ask for
her understanding, her forgiveness, or whatever it took to get back into her good graces. When he arrived at her door he raised his hand to knock on it but stopped himself. After a long pause, he turned and walked away. In a stuporous daze, he found his way into the crowded bar, not far from the main lobby. There was a lively dance in progress. Seating himself at the main counter he quietly ordered a rum and coke. If ever there was a night to drown one’s sorrow, this was the night, he felt.

  Margo was beyond miserable. Having had a day and a half to think about things and her adverse response to Ma’Kentu, she felt terrible. As she carefully applied green mascara to her eyelashes and lipstick to her moist lips, she thought how, on the eve of one of the most important days of his life, and a time when he sought and needed her love and understanding and support, she had walked out on him. How selfish of her, she tormented herself over and over. It wasn’t an easy burden to bear. She had given him the cold shoulder and now she could not live with herself. With a heart heavy with guilt, she knew she had to find him and apologize to him. For the most part, she just wanted to let him know that she still loved him, still cared. Besides, he had decided to do the right thing by supporting his child. As his woman, could she be expected to do any less by supporting him?

  Perfect, she thought, regarding herself in the wall mirror. After spraying a light mist of perfume along the nape of her neck and wrists, she grabbed her purse, then shut off the room lights and exited into the hallway. Rounding the corridor, she paused in front of Ma’Kentu’s room and rapped on the door several times. There was no response. Undaunted, she tried again. Still no response. After an anxious thought or two, she turned, then headed for the elevator.

  Entering the main lobby she looked around but saw no sign of him or any of the band members. Left to assume they had all went out on the town she turned and started back to her room. Along the way, she heard music coming from around the corridor from the spacious lobby. Curiously, she made her way towards the source of it, the hotel’s club, The Green Clover.

  Stepping inside the dimly-lit space, she was surprised to find her man seated alone at the main bar. She quickly scanned the club but no other band members were in sight. Apparently, he was alone.

  Approaching him, she gave him her brightest smile and her warmest greeting and asked him if he’d like to dance. At first his expression registered surprise at seeing her, but after a long thought, he accepted her offer.

  The two danced through two slow selections, then she took him by the hand and led him out of the club and into the hotel’s lush indoor atrium. There, they were afforded some privacy.

  “You look as stunning as ever, Margo,” he said, gripping her hands at chest level.

  “Thank you, honey,” she said, gazing up into his eyes affectionately. “Look, I want to ask you for your forgiveness. I know I said some things earlier that probably hurt you. I just wanted to say that was not my intent. I was upset, that’s all. And I’m sorry. I apologize. I want you to know that I’m here for you now and always.”

  “Look, you don’t have to apologize,” he murmured.

  “Perhaps, but I had no right to leave you standing there by yourself.”

  “Well, I have to admit that part did hurt.”

  “Oooh, baby,” she grimaced. “I’m so sorry. Listen, tomorrow is your day and I’m planning on making it the best day you ever had. I mean, how often is it that one gets an opportunity to be in the running for a Grammy award?”

  “More than that, how often does a guy gets to be in the company of the most beautiful woman on the planet?”

  Beaming, Margo clasped his hand and led him to the elevator and to her suite. Once inside, she dimmed the lights and offered him a drink. After a moment, she handed him a whiskey sour, then took a seat beside him, her rum and coke mix in hand. Quietly, the two lazily sipped at their drinks and gazed probingly into one another’s eyes.

  After a while, he set his drink down, then removed her drink from her loose grip and set it aside, too. Reaching over to her, he eased her into his warm embrace.

  “This is so much better,” she cooed, smiling sweetly.

  “Better than better,” he said, in a deep husky tone he hoped would drive her crazy.

  “By the way, I meant to tell you what a great dancer you are,” she said, as she stroked the back of his hand along her cheek in a gentle caress.

  “Thank you, but let me assure you that I’m a better lover than I am a dancer,” he said in a soothingly manly kind of way.

  “Is that so!” she replied, rubbing her nylon-clad foot along the length of his leg. “I’m not so sure, so perhaps you’re just going to have to show me.”

  Leaning his head close to hers he whispered into her ear, “It would be my pleasure.”

  “Not entirely all yours,” she shot back with a seductive grin.

  Moving his anxious lips towards hers, he felt her arresting hand press softly against his chest. Pausing, he gave her an inquisitive look.

  “I’ve got a pleasant surprise for you. Just give me ten minutes and I’ll be right back.”

  Rising up from the sofa, she disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

  Grabbing his drink, he took a swallow and walked over to the dresser where Margo’s mid-size boom box sat. Looking through her collection of CD’s he found one that fit the mood and put it in the CD player. Walking back over to the sofa, he plopped down on it and waited anxiously for her reappearance.

  Minutes after this thought she emerged from the bedroom adorned in one of the sexy outfits he had purchased for her. Upon seeing her, his jaw nearly dropped to the floor, and for good reason. Her drop-dead hourglass figure was more sensuous and inviting than he could have ever imagined. It was the first time he’d ever seen her clad in such revealing and enticing attire. But he definitely could get used to it. The red outfit, with matching red bra and panties, red corset and stockings with matching garter straps, fit perfectly on her 5’8” frame. The woman was a seven-alarm fire waiting to be doused.

  Walking seductively over to where he sat in awe, she took him by the hands and assisted him up from the sofa. “I hope my man is pleased.”

  Clearing his throat, he murmured, “Damn, baby…more than I can put into words.”

  “Well, let us not waste time with words.”

  Gripping her at the shoulders, he replied, “God, you’re so stunning and so beautiful.” With that his mouth came crashing down on her mouth in a hungry kiss. Coming up for air, he spun her around slowly and pressed his hard body against her soft form, his hands snaking around her waist and up to her breasts. Kneading and massaging them through the silk he paused long enough to reach back and unfastened the bra, which barely contained them. Unrestricted now, he went after her heaving breasts as if he was on a mission. Again he massaged and kneaded them, pulling on her nipples lightly until it drove her body wild with pleasure.

  Turning her around he lifted her up into his massive arms and carried her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed. He quickly joined her, kissing and caressing the entire length of her soft fragrant body as if for the very first time. In the meantime, she drank his kisses uninhibitedly as she unfastened the three remaining buttons on his shirt and parted it, revealing his massive muscular chest beneath it to her hungry gaze. Then, without warning his hot mouth cover her breasts as he teased and titillated her harden nipples until the sheer pleasure of it all caused her body to quiver.

  Freeing him from the last article of clothing, which stood between her and all the unlady-like things she wanted to do to him, she tossed his trousers to the far side of the wide bedroom. And to her utter surprise, he was wearing the sexiest black briefs she had ever seen on a man. And it was an eyeful, to say the least. Already weak with desire, this was an added turn-on for her, not that she wasn’t already at the seven-alarm level. By the way things looked this could easily turn into a nine-alarm fire. And he had Al to thank for the idea of wearing briefs.

  Once again, he tar
geted her bare breasts with his hands. Unable to contain her passion, she closed her eyes tightly and softly moaned as her breasts swelled to fill his eager hands. And as before, he eventually replaced his mouth with his hands, sucking and pulling her nipples until her desire and frustration level was at a peak. A woman experiencing great passion, she threaded her fingers up through his hair and cupped his head, which increased the pressure and sheer pleasure of his mouth against her.

  Before long he began to explore her upper thigh area and the exotic space between them. When he did this a shock wave of pleasure overcame her and to such a degree that she begged him to take her, right then and there. The intensity of the pleasure he brought to her lust-filled body was unbelievable, almost unbearable.

  Clutching his shoulders, she sighed as he ravished her with lustful abandonment. It was a moment they had both longed for. Completely consumed with passion the two went at it like there was no tomorrow. It wasn’t long before they easily reached ten-alarm status, which included Fourth of July type fireworks.

  “That was out of this world, honey,” she exclaimed, still breathing heavily.

  Lying down next to her, with the length of his still sizzling hot body pressed against hers, he was inclined to agree.

  “You know, I think I kind‘a like the effect wearing lingerie has on you. It really does turn you on,” she said, caressing his hand.